The memory pulls them back— to the moment they had tried to rest, stuck together with nowhere else to go. The submarine’s tiny living area had been big enough for them both, cluttered with stray wrappers and dimly lit by flickering emergency lights. Rose had claimed her seat, arms crossed, daring Jack to argue. He, of course, had smirked and flopped down beside her, way too close for comfort.

Jack chuckles at the thought. “You looked so annoyed when you realized you had to share space with me.”

Rose scoffs. “Annoyed? Jack, I was suffering.”



The memory lingers—the exhaustion, the frustration, the undeniable tension of being stuck in such a small space together. Every sigh, every eye roll, every sarcastic remark had only made the situation worse. Jack had made himself comfortable, stretching out with that smug grin, while Rose had sat stiffly, arms crossed, pretending he didn’t exist. Looking back, it was almost funny how hard they had fought against the inevitable.

Jack smirks, nudging her. “Admit it, you didn’t hate being stuck with me.”

Rose raises an eyebrow. “Jack, I would have paid to get rid of you.”

Jack laughs, but then his expression shifts.

“…But do you remember our last moments in the control room?”